the MaCallan
by Nika Dixon
Summary: Tag for Kindred. Jen and Rodney friendship deal with the angst of having to put Carson into staisis. From Sheppard's POV. Angst/humour
1. Chapter 1

_Author's Note: I watched Kindred the other day, and thought up this little tag. It's short... a little angsty, and a bit of cracky humor tossed together. It's Rodney and Jen (friendship) dealing with Carson's internment in the staisis chamber, from John's POV._

* * *

Rodney sat alone in his darkened lab, staring at the same screen of calculations he'd been looking at for the past hour. The numbers blurred back at him while he rested on his elbows, feeling tired and alone.

He'd lost his best friend.

Found him.

Then lost him again.

It hurt almost as much the second time around.

Even though he wasn't _actually_ dead this time.

_And_ technically it wasn't even the real Carson.

But he looked like Carson, acted like Carson, had all the memories and speech and mannerisms and nuances that made up the real Carson.

And Rodney missed him just as much.

His chest tightened.

The door to the lab swished open and he looked up, preparing to verbally berate whoever dared bother him at this late hour… but his mouth clamped shut when Jennifer walked in, letting the door close behind her.

"Hey." She said softly. "You busy?"

He thought about telling her he was insanely busy and couldn't be bothered, but he could see the faint traces of red around her eyes and the sadness reflected there. So instead he shook his head.

She stepped forward, setting a large bottle onto the desk next to his computer along with two short glasses.

He looked at the bottle, then up at her.

"Carson…" she cleared her throat. "Carson gave this to me before… before… Well he made me swear we wouldn't let it go to waste. He said it was a sin to abandon a perfectly good bottle of single malt." Then she smiled sadly. "But we're supposed to sip, not gulp."

Rodney snorted. Sounded exactly like a Carson Beckett warning. _Ack! Ye don't slug it, Rodney! It's an insult to the maker. Ye sip. And savor the proper taste!_

Jen opened the bottle and poured a healthy dose into each glass. She slid one glass to Rodney, and raised the second. "May the best you've ever seen, be the worst you'll ever see." She said softly, then clinked her glass against Rodney's.

Rodney was grimacing at the taste even before the glass met his lips.

* * *

"Hey." Sheppard nodded as he met Ronon at a hallway intersection.

Ronon grunted and fell into step beside him.

It was well after midnight and John had already resigned himself to a sleepless night. It had been a hell of a week. They'd found Carson. Found Teyla. Lost Teyla. Lost Carson. His heart didn't know whether to feel relief that they were both technically still alive, or pain that they were both gone again. It was like reopening a gaping wound and filling it full of acid before trying to sew it closed.

He'd decided to concentrate on the fact that Teyla was alive and he'd do everything in his power to save her. And technically, he wasn't mourning Carson so much as himself for his inability to do anything to help the man.

John hated waiting. Hated not knowing. Hated the feeling that he should be doing something – anything - besides wandering around the darkened hallways of the city feeling sorry for himself.

"Where we going?" Ronon asked, breaking John out of his self-pity.

John looked up, noting that he'd managed to propel himself in the section of the tower containing Rodney's lab. He shrugged. "Thought maybe I'd check on McKay. See how he's holding up."

When they reached the lab, the room was empty and dark, save for the small desk light next to Rodney's computer. The screen was still on, calculations running in some self-sustaining program, but the scientist was nowhere to be found.

Ronon picked up an empty glass from beside the keyboard and sniffed it, wrinkling his nose.

John reached for the second glass and swiped it under his nose. "Ah, the MaCallan. One of Carson's favorites."

"Smells disgusting." Ronon set the glass back down.

"It's an acquired taste." John returned his glass to the desk and looked around the room, half expecting to see McKay curled up in a corner somewhere, strangling the missing bottle. But the room was still empty, and John was still feeling restless. Although now he at least had something to do. Find McKay and make sure he was okay - because Rodney hated the MaCallan almost as vehemently as Carson loved it.

He walked out of the lab with Ronon at his heels.


	2. Chapter 2

"Shhhh!"

"What?"

"Quiet! They'll hear us."

"Who'll hear us?"

"Security."

"Security? There's no security."

"We just leave these things unguarded?"

"Exactly who do you think is going to take one?"

"Well… we are… ?"

"It's… two o'clock in the morning. Who's going to care, anyway? Besides. I'm in charge and if I say we can take one, well… we can take one!"

"You're not in charge."

"Am too."

"Are not."

"Too."

"Not."

"Too."

"Not. Technically, Colonel Carter's in charge. And Colonel Sheppard."

"Carter Schmarter. I'm… What? What's so funny?"

"Sssshmarter. Who's shmarter than who?"

"Oh would you get off the floor. It's not that funny. You just… I'm _not_ carrying you. Give me that, you're spilling it."

"Am not."

"Are too."

"Help me up."

"Oh for the love of…"

"Ouch! Good lord you're heavy! I said help me up, not crush me to death."

"You pulled me over on purpose!"

"It's not my fault your equality's impaired."

"My equality?"

"I mean your equal… equi… balance."

"My balance is not impaired."

"No, but you are."

"Ha. Ha. Laugh it up, fur-ball. I'll have you know I am perfectly capable of holding my liquor. See?"

"Hey, don't drink it all!"

"I barely had any!"

"Pfft."

"Come on, we're almost there."

"Shmarter. Shhh-marter."

"Oh would you give it a rest?"

"Why? It's funny! Shmarter… I am shmarter than you… you are a piece of poo…"

"Oh that's mature… ouch!"

"Careful. There's a post there."

"Oh thank you Doctor Observant."

"I'm just saying…"

"Eenie, meenie, miney, moe… that one."

"Is this how you guys normally choose which one to take?"

"That depends on Colonel Pilot Pants. That one's his favorite."

"Why?"

"How the hell should I know? Here hold this."

"All right."

"Don't drink it!"

"Why not?"

"Cause it's… half gone already."

"I'm not the only one who's had any!"

"Coulda fooled me."

"Hey! Carson said sip don't glub."

"Glug."

"Glug?"

"Glip don't slug."

"Glip?"

"Slip. Slug. Oh just… here take it. And sit down."

"Are you sure we're not going to get in trouble?"

"Pfft. Would I lie to you?"

"Yes."

"Oh gee, thanks for the vote of conference."

"Confidence."

"That's what I said."

"No, you said… Hey, be careful… Watch out! Look out for that post! Don't hit the side!"

"Actually, I'm not flying it."

"Ohmygod, you're not?! Who is? I told you we'd get into trouble!"

"It's on auto pilot… oh god that's priceless."

"What's so funny?"

"You should see the look on your face…"

"I don't have a look on my face!"

"You do. You're all like… wooooo… no one's flying…"

"Do not…"

"Do too…"

"Do not…"

"Do too…"

* * *

"Tree!"

"I know!"

"Branches!"

"Stop distracting me!"

"Who taught you how to fly?"

"Sheppard."

"He sucks."

"I'm gonna tell him you said that."

"Go ahead. He's a terrible teacher. He should never have let you pass. Just look at what you did. It's all crooked!"

"Well how was I supposed to know that was there?"

"It's kinda hard to miss. All big and green and leafy and everything."

"Yeah well maybe I have night blindness."

"You do?"

"No."

"You know what's funny? Blindness implies darkness… and night is dark so wouldn't you be blind in the dark anyway? I mean shouldn't they have given it a more appropriate name… What?"

"And people say _I_ blather."

"Blather is not a real word. And you call yourself a genius."

* * *

"S' pretty here."

"His favorite spot. Sit here for hours. Best spot for bish to fight."

"Bish?"

"What? What'so funny? What'd I say?"

"Bish."

"Bish? Whassa bish?"

"You said fighting bish."

"I did not!"

"Too."

"Gimme that before you hook yourself."

"Will not! Here put my worm on."

"Eww. Get that away from me."

"S'just a worm?"

"Where'd you find a worm?"

"Botany."

"You stole worms?"

"You stole a jumper!"

"I borrowed it."

"Well… so did I."

"You borrowed a worm? You gonna give it back?"

"Maybe. Maybe not."

"That's decisive."

"Shuddup."

* * *

"Think we'll catch a fish?"

"Nope."

"Think we'll catch an eel?"

"Nope."

"Snake?"

"Where! Oh shuddup. That's not funny. You know I hate snakes."

"You're pretty funny for a scientist."

"Yeah well…"

"Here, watch my line."

"Where you going?"

"Swimming."

"You can't swim!"

"I know how to swim, Rodney.

"Not here!"

"Why not? S'not like the park ranger's going to throw me out."

"You can't… what if… we don't know what's in the water! You're not wearing… Jennifer! Put that back on! Right now! I mean it! I'll leave you here! I'll… Don't you dare. Don't… Why you little…"

* * *

"I'm cold."

"S'what happens when you get wet."

"We need a fire. Build us a fire."

"With what?"

"S'gotta be something in the jumper we can use. It's full of all kinds of stuff."

"Prolly."

"Drone?"

"If we wanna blow the entire rock-face off, sure."

"BBQ lighter?"

"In a jumper?"

"Dad always packed one. Very handy. Don't burn your fingers like you do with a lighter."

"There's matches and stuff."

"Well?"

"But it's way back there… and we're… way up here."

"Can you rub two sticks together?"

"Do I look like a boy scout?"

"A wet one."

"Funny, Keller. Funny."

* * *

"You're drunk."

"So'r you."

"Not nearly enough."

"Why?"

"Cause I still remember."

"Oh."

"Aww geeze, don't cry. So not good with the… the tears and puffy eyes and drippy nose thing."

"It's all my fault. Some doctor I make. Sorry Carson. Can't fix ya' so into the freezer."

"You'll figure it out."

"Stupid."

"Not stupid."

"I am. Should be able… able… able to do something."

"Smartist man in two… two! … galazies and I… am… useless."

"Frozen. Freezer pop."

"Useless. Completely… useless."

"We…"

"Suck?"

"Yeah."

* * *

"I miss 'im."

"Me too."

"We should have brought him. He'd like it here."

"Next time."

"Promise?"

"Uh-huh."

"Tired?"

"Hmm."

"Wanna go back?"

"Not yet."

"Kay."

"I'm sorry."

"For?"

"Your best friend. Couldn't help him."

"S'okay. You will."

"_We_ will."

"We will."

"Promise?"

"Promise."


	3. Chapter 3

"Over here!"

John stepped over the rise, his eyes scanning the rocky face of the cliff side through the faint light of the approaching dawn. He followed Ronon's call.

It had taken the better part of two hours to figure out Rodney was no longer in the city, and another two hours to figure out what he'd done to the sensors in the jumper bay roof. It was only after a lab tech they'd passed in the corridor reported seeing McKay and Dr. Keller near the jumper bay, carrying what he swore was a fishing rod and a large yellow tackle box… and giggling.

Which made John curious, Ronon agitated, and both men a little worried.

Rodney hated to fish. And Rodney hated the MaCallan. And from what he knew about Jennifer, she didn't know how to fly a jumper, and couldn't hold her liquor.

A messy combination if he'd ever seen one.

Long range sensors picked up two distinct transmitters on the mainland, near the lower rim, near a spot John had flown Carson several times. As soon as John saw their location, he suddenly understood.

Rodney and Jennifer had gone fishing on Carson's behalf.

They'd found the jumper parked on a pine tree at the edge of a clearing.

They'd found a multitude of tracks – weaving back and forth from various sections of shoreline.

They'd found the tackle box in the first location.

A fishing rod in the second.

And Keller's shoes and socks in the third.

It was the fourth spot, a large pile of rocks that overlooked a narrow inlet where they finally found their inebriated quarry.

Jennifer was asleep, curled into a ball on her side, using a rock for a pillow. Her hair was wet, and her hands were clenched tightly around a fishing pole.

McKay, sitting cross-legged a few feet away, looked up when they approached.

John crouched next to him. "How you doing?" He asked softly, a little worried… okay a lot worried… about Rodney. He reached for the bottle Rodney cradled in his lap. Completely empty.

"S'rry. All gone." Rodney made a face. "Disgusting crap."

"That's okay." John nodded, setting the empty bottle onto the ground. "Probably time to head back anyway."

Rodney turned to where Ronon was trying to extract the long rod from between Jennifer's fingers. McKay reached out and wacked Ronon across the upper arm.

"God, don't wake her! Finally got her to stop singing."

Ronon raised an eyebrow and looked down at McKay's hand, which was now tightly clamped around his forearm.

"Singing." John smirked at Ronon, who was fighting a grin himself.

"Horrible." Rodney shook his head, released Ronon's arm, and turned to grab the front of John's jacket. "Not the singing… 'cause actually s'pretty good… but country? Could she sing something else?" Rodney waved his hands frantically. "But noooooo. One more pickup truck song and I'm gonna hurl."

"So you ready to go back?"

Rodney nodded, struggling to find his feet.

John grabbed him when Rodney swerved sharply to the side. "I caught a fish!"

"Good for you." John nodded.

"Shania made me throw it back. Carson would have been proud."

"He _will_ be proud." John answered. "You can tell him all about it when we wake him up."

"Yeah." Rodney nodded sadly. He glanced over at the sleeping Jennifer, who was now wrapped in Ronon's coat and curled tightly against the big-man's chest. "We'll save him."

John placed a hand firmly on Rodney's shoulder. "I know you will."

Rodney wiggled his index finger between Jennifer and himself. "Geniuses." Then he hiccupped. "Shame. Can't hold her liquor though."

"Yeah, I can see that."

"Gonna hurt tomorrow."

"Probably."

"Parked over there."

"What say you let me do the driving this time?"

"Watch out for the trees. Sneaky buggers."

"I'll keep that in mind."

"Did I tell you I caught a fish?"


End file.
